It was a big box.
My son brought me a gift
it took some time, I needed to sift
through the pain and the heartache,
found something good I could take.
He said it was for me with a big, bright smile.
His mind had been walking for at least a mile.
Missed his sorrowful, little mother,
found comfort from his big, happy brother.
So he created a masterpiece
in black and white,
wasn't meant to worry me or to fright.
For he wasn't angry or nervous about me,
He just wanted me to "See," to "See!"
He put a crooked smile on my black face.
He had drew me in an odd space.
With a black box and lines all around,
it looked as if the work made sound.
A black firetruck with he and I on it.
something to ponder standing, then I sit.
Still trying to study all of it.
My red heart had been opened with black,
evidently knowledge in his art, I did lack.
Arms held wide,
he gave me red flowers
glad I hadn't died.
Life can be a very dark, strange place,
it makes you think who cut in on your race?
Nicholl McGuire
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